


Stress Reliever

by Spectacledwino



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: Afternoon delight, Anxiety, F/M, Mentions of Sex, Stress Relief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:12:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23335927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spectacledwino/pseuds/Spectacledwino
Summary: With the upcoming launch of his new website, Chris' wife helps to relieve some of the stress that's causing some sleeplessness in him.
Relationships: Chris Evans (Actor)/Reader, Chris Evans (Actor)/You
Kudos: 46





	Stress Reliever

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a dream I had where I was his wife. I couldn't stop thinking about it, so I manifested it into a short story. I hope you all enjoy!

Something had drawn you out of sleep. It wasn't a nightmare or a loud sound, but something in your subconscious was telling you to wake up. 

Your eyes fluttered open to your darkened room. _What time is it?_ you thought. Glancing at the alarm clock on your bedside table, you saw _3:03 AM_ on the display. Yawning, you rolled over reaching out to cuddle your husband. When your hand hit the cold sheets on his side of the bed, you grew confused. It took you a moment -- your brain still in a haze of sleep -- to process this information. 

_If he went to the bathroom, the sheets would still be warm. He wasn't letting Dodger out because you could feel and hear the pooch snuffling from his spot at the foot of the bed._

_Where was your husband?_

You sat up, wrapping the extra blanket around your shoulders. Dodger's sleepy eyes regarded your movements as you slowly moved out the room. Not wanting to be left alone, you heard him stretch and yawn before jumping from the bed and following closely behind you, his nails tapping along the hardwood floors.

The two of you made your way through the house, you looking for Chris and Dodger acting as your shadow-slash-bodyguard. He wasn't in the kitchen nor the living room, but when you approached his in-home office, you noticed a faint light glowing from within. Peeking through the doorway, you saw your husband's face lit up by his computer screen, his body mostly obscured by the desk and computer monitor. His face, illuminated by the light from the computer, showed worry and anxiety, and his hands were steepled under his chin. He looked too stressed for this early in the morning. 

He didn't notice your approach until you rounded his desk and rested a hand on his shoulder. 

"Chris, baby, what are you doing up so early?" you asked softly, your voice filled with concern.

He let out a deep breath before answering you. "I couldn't sleep." He briefly glanced up at you, but he wrapped an arm around your waist pulling you in toward him making you sit on his arm rest. 

Watching the anxiety and stress fill him reminded you of his early years in the Captain America role. He was worried he wasn't going to give the superhero justice. He'd work himself too hard trying to be the perfect Steve Rogers that you could see it was physically and emotionally draining him: getting the attitude right and perfecting his physique. There were a few times that the stress would drive him to have panic attacks, and you were almost always there to ground him. The one time you weren't present, you were on a girls' trip in Napa Valley while Chris was in LA. He called you crying, hyperventilating. Your heart couldn't take it: the sound of your then-fiancé sounding utterly broken on the phone had you calling Scott to keep him company until you could get home on the next flight out.

Ever since then, Chris had begun working with a therapist. He said he couldn't go through that again, especially when filming began. You wouldn't always be able to just drop whatever it was you were doing to fly out and help, even though he would love that. You had your own career to worry about, he said, and he didn't want you to come to resent him. You thought he was crazy: you'd never come to resent him for needing help, but he assured you that he needed to do this for himself. And he did. His panic attacks and bouts of anxiety came few and far between, but he'd still get into funks. Not bad, not near the Napa Incident, as he called it. He'd have some off days every once in a while, and he was able to pull himself out of the dark fog, but this time, you could tell he needed a lighthouse. And you were there to light the path.

Currently, his screen was too bright this early in the morning, but you quickly glanced at what had your husband's attention. It was an article about his project, A Starting Point. He had been working on this project for a few years, and as the days counted down to the launch, you could sense the anxiety was getting to him.

This particular article, from an unreputable news organization, was critiquing Chris and his project. It was questioning whether he was cut out for the political world and if his project was even worth it. 

As long as you've known him, you knew Chris could take criticism pretty hard, but he had gotten better at filtering out all the nonsense. However, this project was something he was extremely passionate about, and he had already been discouraged when few congress people had responded to his initial invitation. It had taken lots of distracting on your part to pull him out of his funk and even more encouragement from you to get him focused back on the project. 

You could feel the tension in his body, so you reached up and began running your fingers softly through his hair. After a moment, you could feel his shoulders relax.

"Come on, Chris," you said softly. "Let's go to bed." He didn't respond. Instead, he let you pull him gently from his seat and back to your room, Dodger in tow. 

When you laid down on your back, you tugged him to rest his head on your breasts so you could continue stroking his hair. You didn't let yourself fall asleep until you could hear his soft snores. 

You woke before him the next morning. His face was mere inches from your own, and he looked so peaceful. His brow was unfurrowed and his jaw unclenched, a vast change from the mere hours earlier. Pressing a quick kiss to his nose, his lips curling slightly in response, you rose from the bed careful not to make a sound or jostle the sleeping man. Dodger, following your cue, leapt softly from the room ready to start the day. 

"Hey, Dodge." His ears perked at his nickname. "How can we get your daddy to relax today? Maybe some Disney movies and pizza?" Dodger tilted his head at pizza, making you chuckle. "Sounds like a plan then." 

Chris was still asleep by the time lunch rolled around. Having distracted Dodger with a Kong toy filled with peanut butter, you made your way back to your room. You couldn't help but chuckle at the sight: Chris was now sprawled on his back across most of the bed, the sheets a tangled mess around his feet and the pillows scattered on the floor. You carefully climbed in bed next to him, tucking yourself into his side and pressing a kiss to his chin.

"Time to wake up, sleepy head."

No response. 

You slipped a hand just under the waistband of his sweats and kissed his neck. "Baby, time to wake up." This time, he groaned quietly readjusting his position slightly. You slipped your hand further into his bottoms and nipped at his neck. Your fingertips gently brushed his member, and you could feel him start to harden beneath your touch. His arm stretched out and wrapped around you. His eyes were still closed, but his a wide smile appeared on his lips. "There's that beautiful smile." Your hand was now wrapped loosely around his solid dick, and you could feel him jump stir under your touch. 

"Mmm, good morning," he said, his voice raspy with sleep. 

"Good afternoon," you corrected him as you stroked him, your hand firmer now. "How'd you sleep?" 

"Really good," he gasped out as you swiped your thumb over the tip. "And my wake-up call isn't too bad either." 

He groaned in disapproval when you pulled away from him, your hand slipping from his pants. This made him open his eyes, that furrow in his brows back. His smile returned, however, when he watched you stand up to peel your shirt and panties off. He sat up on his elbows to watch your quick striptease, but you pushed him back down.

"You just sit back and relax," you said as you tugged his sweats down his legs, his cock hard and leaking against his lower abdomen. You leaned over, enveloping him as far down your throat as possible. You made sure to get his cock coated as much as possible before letting him fall from your lips with a soft pop. He watched enraptured by your movements as you climbed over him, your hips hovering over his. "Let me take care of you." Pushing your needs to the side, you focused all of your attention on giving him pleasure. 

Afterward, you ran your fingers over his back, knowing it would lull him to sleep. Watching his eyes droop as a lazy smile graced his lips, you quietly peeled yourself from his side and headed to the bathroom to clean yourself up. 

A couple hours later, the pizza had arrived, and _Beauty and the Beast_ was queued up on the TV. As you were about to head to wake him, Chris had shuffled into the living room, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. 

"What's all this?" he asked as you slipped a beer into his hand.

"Just a little something Dodger wanted to do for you," you answered. At the sound of his name, Dodger's tail began to softly wag against the couch cushions where he laid. "I might have helped a little since, you know, our furry doesn't have thumbs."

"How did I get so lucky?" He grabbed your hand and led you to the sofa, plopping down first and then pulling you next to him and draping your legs across his lap. 

As the movie ended and the pizza mostly gone, you felt his eyes on you. Glancing over, you smiled at him. "How do you feel?"

"Like I'm the luckiest man in the world." He drew your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. "But seriously," he said, "Thank you. For everything. I love you, baby. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"I love you, too, Chris." 


End file.
